


Renewal

by Rawrpeep



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword
Genre: Fluff, Groose and Zelda are mentioned but don't make an appearance, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Game(s), there's some strangling so tread carefully
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:48:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22730485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rawrpeep/pseuds/Rawrpeep
Summary: Post-Skyward Sword.  GhiraLink hurt/comfort with a lot of banter and a side of fluff.
Relationships: Ghirahim/Link (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 109





	Renewal

**Author's Note:**

> Wanted to post this before Valentine's Day ended!
> 
> Whoa, I wrote another one. Took like three days, but I'm still not used to writing fanfiction again. Just wanted to write some fluff between these two dorks because there's not enough of it.
> 
> Unbeta'd so it might flow kind of weird, but hopefully you enjoy it.

The Faron Woods were beautiful in the early spring. Sure, everything was still a bit wet from snowmelt, but the forest felt _alive again._ The frogs and insects were finally awake, joining the birds in a song to welcome the return of life and light to the dead and dreary land; a song of renewal. Link briefly wondered if the Kikwi were still hibernating, or if they were up and about once again. He supposed he could go deeper into the woods and find out, but he didn’t want to stray too far from the budding village the Skyloftians were slowly building.

...Okay, so it was really just himself and Groose right now. Aside from Zelda, they were the ones with the most experience on the Surface, and they had been working constantly for the last year on building a settlement for their people. They had spent the summer after their adventure making huts and other necessary buildings, and had plenty of help in doing so. By winter, Link and Groose had built a food storage, a material shed, an outhouse, and a decently sized hut that they shared, as well as the furniture they used. A second hut had been in progress, but then the snow came and put everything on pause. Most of their people had returned to Skyloft, but Groose had stayed as some sort of self-imposed masculinity challenge, and Link didn’t want to leave him completely alone for an entire season, so they became roommates.

On the upside, with the return of warm weather, progress could begin again. On the downside, however, warmth meant predators and monsters would be roaming about again in search of food and territory. It was for this reason that Link had gone out on patrol, leaving Groose in the tiny settlement to meet with the Skyloftians who would no doubt be returning soon, bearing food and materials. Things were finally at peace.

That was a problem for the retired hero, though. He was a warrior, a knight, a metaphorical weapon. He’d poured blood (so much blood), sweat, and tears into his adventure and on-the-job training, and the serenity that came with the aftermath of a war didn’t sit right with him. Peace was great and all, but he wasn’t used to it anymore. He longed for excitement and he didn’t know who he could talk to about it.

Zelda, naturally, was the first person he considered. They’d always been together through their ups and downs, and had always shared their problems. So many times, when they were children, one would wake to find the other cuddling up to them in the middle of the night after a bad dream or frightening sound. This continued for years, up until they’d hit puberty and it was deemed inappropriate. That didn’t stop them from comforting each other when needed, however, and simply morphed into one’s head in the other’s lap, with latter’s hand carding through the former’s soft locks. That had come to a screeching halt when destiny called, and Link couldn’t bring himself to seek her comfort again when it was over. She was a _goddess._ She had more important things to worry about. If it had been inappropriate to platonically share a bed with her before, wouldn’t it be worse now that she was a deity?

Groose was the next to come to mind, and while they’d set aside their differences and had become good friends, he didn’t think the redhead would understand. He’d certainly try, but ultimately, he’d only stayed around the temple while Link went about adventuring. He hadn’t felt the icy floodwaters of Deep Faron Woods, the burning heat of Eldin Volcano, the whipping sand of Lanayru Desert, the sharpened blade of a magic knife at his throat…

Link paused in his thoughts, eyes closed. He could recall all of those sensations as easily as if they’d happened only hours ago, the ice on his chest, the heat at his back, the wind in his ear, the knife against his-

Wait.

It felt _too_ real.

Link snapped his eyes open, thoughts fleeing faster than keese at sunrise. His gaze flicked downward, seeing a very familiar, very deadly, knife, and a pair of equally familiar pale hands trapping him. His body went rigid and the warmth at his back shifted, the breath in his ear releasing a low, dangerous chuckle.

“My, my, it looks like I’ve found a little bird who’s fallen from his nest. I’m almost tempted to put you in a cage and keep you, but maybe-” the blade at his neck pressed in, and Link was certain it left a shallow cut, “-I should help you back _up._ ” The threat wasn’t lost on the retired hero, and he swallowed. He only knew one person who used such flowery language, and there was no mistaking that smooth-yet-mocking voice. He took a slow breath and carefully tilted his head back to look at his captor, not even bothering to reach for his sword because it was too late to try.

“...Ghirahim?” Link’s voice was soft and quiet with infrequent use, but the shock was clear on his face.

“Ah, so the little bird _can_ sing. Tell me, can he also scream?”

“ _Stop,_ ” Link huffed and tried to ignore the sharp pressure at his throat, “You don’t need to threaten me _every time_ we meet.”

“But where’s the fun in that?” Ghirahim sniffed haughtily at the hero’s slightly annoyed look. “I haven’t been able to threaten you in a _year,_ Skychild. It’s been terribly boring.” Link’s snort of derision became a choked cough when the demon lord vanished the knife and gripped his throat instead. “Oh, but look at you now! At my mercy once again, where you belong.”

“How,” Link coughed, afraid his neck might snap if his head was pushed back any further, “did you find me?”

“Rude. No ‘how are you’? Or ‘sorry for ruining your life’? Or ‘you look flawless as always’?” Ghirahim flipped his hair and threw his head back dramatically. “I’m wounded, Skychild, but I’ll let it slide this time because I enjoy the sound of your sweet little voice. But to answer your question-”

“Let me guess,” Link interrupted, nearly coughing again when the fingers tightened, “that ‘red string of fate’ led you here?”

“ _Rude._ You should know better than to interrupt your superiors,” the demon lord growled, narrowing his eyes. “The red thread will _always_ bind us, little songbird, but that wasn’t what led me here. I ruled these lands for _centuries_ while my master was imprisoned. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice a new settlement?” When Link didn’t respond, Ghirahim rolled his eyes and loosened his grip a little on the boy’s windpipe, still keeping him caged tightly against himself. “ _Now_ you can say something.”

Link grunted softly, as if he’d rather remain stubbornly silent than speak only with permission. He thought better of it, however, when his throat was briefly squeezed, and groaned in resignation. Privately, he thought he might have enjoyed this whole banter-and-physical-contact thing, if not for the strangling.

“How about I tell you once you _stop choking me._ ” The grip on his throat became dangerously tight, and his vision started going fuzzy. In a panic, he scrambled to grab the sword spirit’s wrists.

“You are in _no position_ to be making _bargains,_ you insolent brat,” the demon’s tone was clipped and angry, “Now answer. The. Question.” The grip loosened just enough for the hero to get enough breath to speak.

“No,” he gasped out, “I didn’t think you’d notice. I thought you were _dead._ ” For a moment, neither of them made a sound as they watched each other, letting the song of nature hum around them. Ghirahim _finally_ released his choke-hold, though Link kept one hand on his wrist, coughing and bringing the other up to rub at the forming bruises. He didn’t try to move away, however, and slumped back against him.

The silence and tension between them stretched on until it was unnerving. Link looked awkwardly down at his feet, cold dread and boiling guilt churning in his stomach. He had the distinct feeling that he may have fucked up. It was like getting caught by a teacher and getting a week of detention, but the detention was torture and the teacher could kill him with a snap. He swallowed the lump in his throat and absently fidgeted with the demon’s wrist, fingers rubbing and pinching gently.

“...And whose fault is that, hero?” The tone was low and flat, and briefly reminded Link of Fi’s monotone. Hearing such a bland sound from someone usually so emotional was absolutely terrifying. It was worse than the madness that cracked the sword spirit’s laughter just before the battle against Demise. Link shuddered and went slack in the other’s loosening grasp. He wanted to say something, to apologize for hurting him, but the words caught in his throat.

“You ruined my life and slew my master. You took away my _purpose._ I’m a weapon, Skychild, and a weapon without purpose shouldn’t exist.” Ghirahim’s hold suddenly became crushingly tight, and Link cried out softly in pain, but didn’t squirm away. “I should kill you here and now, to avenge my master, and...” the demon trailed off, his nails digging into the hero’s skin. When he didn’t continue, Link thought it was safe to speak.

“And what will you do after you kill me?” His voice came out softer than he intended. “It won’t give you a new reason for living, just temporary gratification.”

“And _what,_ ” the anger was back, but it was better than the unnatural monotone, “do you know about purpose?”

“That I don’t have one, either.” Link leaned his head back against the tall demon’s shoulder to get a good look at him. “I’m just as much a weapon as you are, Ghirahim. Er, figuratively, of course. I got used to being on the front line, but now that the war is over, I can’t go back to a peaceful life. I have _nothing._ Zelda and I are drifting apart thanks to her goddess duties, Fi has been put to rest, and I thought-” Link paused and closed his eyes, the weight of reality finally settling on his shoulders with his admission. His face tightened with the threat of tears, and he shifted until he was facing Ghirahim, pressing his forehead against the demon’s collarbone.

“...I thought you were gone, too. You… You were a constant in an unfamiliar world,” he swallowed, voice shrinking to a sheepish mumble, “and… And I’m glad you’re still alive.” Silence stretched between them again, the hero hiding his face and the demon staring down at him.

And then Ghirahim laughed.

It wasn’t a mocking or cruel sound for once. It was sad and hopeless and Link couldn’t help but join in. They were just a pair of broken weapons, after all. It carried on for what felt like hours, or maybe minutes, and neither of them noticed the silence of the wildlife around them, the creatures having fled from their racket. When Ghirahim finally spoke again, his voice was thick with emotion.

“Oh Skychild,” one hand was holding his face, the other wrapped securely around Link in a half-embrace, “what has happened to us?”

“A whole lot of bullshit.” Ghirahim laughed again, this time genuine. Link cracked a grin in success.

“The _mouth_ on you!” The demon tittered. “I didn’t think you were capable of such crude language, or _any_ spoken language, really, what with your previous silence in my presence.”

“ _Rude,_ ” Link chided with a smile, echoing the demon’s earlier statements. Said demon snorted in amusement. “Maybe I don’t talk unless I’m comfortable,” the hero paused, deciding that it wouldn’t hurt to toss in a compliment, “Or maybe I was just intimidated by your skill.”

“It’s only natural,” the sword spirit preened, “I, personally, believed you were simply in awe of my perfect body.”

“That too.” Ghirahim grabbed Link’s chin roughly to stare him in the eye. Oh shit, had he said that out loud? The hero felt his face redden to the tips of his ears. Judging by the demon lord’s smirk, he had _definitely_ said that out loud.

“ _Well_ then,” the taller practically sang, “This is a _pleasantly_ unexpected turn, my little songbird. What would your little goddess think about you admiring the enemy so thoroughly, hmm?”

“Oh my god, _stop,_ ” Link groaned, “Don’t bring her up when you’re flirting with me, it’s such a mood-killer.” Ghirahim cackled, lacing his fingers into the hero’s hair.

“Trouble in paradise?”

“She’s practically my _sister,_ I don’t want to think about _her_ while I’m pressed up against _you._ It’s weird.”

\----------------------

The hero and the demon sat, intertwined, at the base of a tree and talked for hours about nothing and everything, ignoring the sun slowly sinking toward the horizon. The nature around them resumed its melody of renewal, and soon enough, it lulled Link into a nap. Ghirahim’s first instinct was to be offended, after all, how could someone be bored enough to _fall asleep_ in his presence? He was _always_ the life of the party. The sword spirit took a moment to gather himself and brushed some hair out of the hero’s face. He shouldn’t be offended, really. Wasn’t it an important sign of trust to fall asleep next to someone? And he _wanted_ the hero to trust him. Not out of some nefarious plan or anything; he’d just missed having someone relatively intelligent around, and being social in general.

Ghirahim looked through the empty branches of the trees, watching the sun caress the horizon. He still had a few minutes before he would have to wake up his little songbird, and he wouldn’t let go of him sooner than absolutely necessary. It was really too bad that a search party would likely be sent out if the hero didn’t return soon. The demon sighed as the sun dipped out of sight and gently woke the human curled against him.

“Skychild,” nothing.

“Songbird,” still nothing.

“Hero,” nope.

“ _Link._ Wake up, you silly boy, before I decide to slap you.”

“Mm… Five more minutes...”

“While I’d _love_ to indulge you and keep you in my lap forever, we don’t have time for that. The sun is gone and night has fallen, and I’d much rather _avoid_ your little settlement sending out a search party for their lost little hero.” He received a sleepy grumble and further cuddling in response. He sighed. He would have to do this the hard way.

“You leave me no choice...” The demon moved a hand right up next to the boy’s face, preparing for a slap, but hesitated. He didn’t want to break this fragile trust, and violence probably wouldn’t be beneficial to maintaining it.

So he pinched Link’s nose instead.

It took a moment for the hero to sputter awake, suddenly unable to breathe through his nose. He took the opportunity to glare at the lazily grinning sword spirit. The boy’s annoyance was adorable, really.

“What the hell, Ghirahim?! I almost choked! And I’ve had more than enough of that today!”

“You brought that upon yourself, Skychild. You didn’t want to wake up.”

“I was _comfortable,_ ” the annoyance was nothing compared to his precious pout, “Why did you wake me any-” a pause. “Oh shit, is it night already?!”

“ _Yes._ I would’ve let you sleep otherwise.”

“I need to get back to the village!” Link scrambled out of Ghirahim’s lap, falling hilariously on his face, before standing. “If I don’t, Groose will come looking for me, and he’ll probably get lost or eaten by a deku baba, or-”

“ _Songbird._ Stop.” Ghirahim stood, much more gracefully, and put firm hand on Link’s shoulder. The boy stilled immediately and looked up at him.

“But I need to-”

“I know.” In seconds, the hero was once again pressed tightly against the demon, and the taller snapped his fingers, the pair appearing on the outskirts of the tiny settlement, just out of sight. Ghirahim chuckled lightly at the hero’s incredulous look.

“...I forgot you could do that.”

“Clearly.” The demon wiped some dirt off of Link’s face. “Run along now, Skychild, you don’t want your friend to get worried.”

“Thank you, Ghirahim.” The hero’s smile was as full and bright as the rising moon, and the demon lord felt a pleasant warmth tingle through him at the sight. _He’d_ been the cause of that joyous expression, and he’d make sure he could cause it again. Link made to move away, but paused in thought, looking closely at the sword spirit.

“...What?”

“I found a book about that red thread of fate you’re always going on about-” Link stepped up to the tall demon, closer than necessary for conversation. “-and I understand the meaning behind it. That’s why,” he paused, “I think you should move in with me once we have another hut built.” Ghirahim didn’t get the chance to react to the bold suggestion, because the hero had pulled him down for a chaste kiss on the lips before flouncing away with a mischievous grin and a wave goodbye.

The demon stood, dumbstruck, as he watched his little songbird’s silhouette disappear into one of the sparse buildings. He touched his fingertips to his lips, feeling a genuine smile spread beneath them.

“We’ll see, Skychild. We’ll see.”


End file.
